


i'll let you figure me out

by eversall



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Post s2 finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 02:29:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14823509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eversall/pseuds/eversall
Summary: There’s silence for a long time, and then Simon says “OhClary” in a voice that’s full of aching sadness, and Maia gets it suddenly, gets why everyone invariably ends up circling Clary like dying planets swallowed up by a collapsing sun; she thinks of Clary, pale-faced and slack-jawed, curled up on her sofa just a few feet outside the door, and she thinks the same thing,oh Clary..





	i'll let you figure me out

**Author's Note:**

> listen i KNOW i have prompts to fill i KNOW but whatever bear with me here. I actually wrote this almost half a year ago, a little while after the season 2 finale, so it involves nothing from season 3. i spent AGES figuring out if I should post it or not. much love to [ jess ](http://softjimon.tumblr.com/) for beta-reading and being kind enough about it that I felt okay posting it ❤️
> 
> title taken from take your time by vance joy. you can find me on [ tumblr ](http://eversall.tumblr.com/) as well.

In the beginning of January, when the snow comes down harder and Maia’s bones feel like breaking, she and Simon end things. He’s hollow, fragile, and she’ll maybe never forgive him for trading his life for her’s in the Seelie Court. It’s only a week after they rescue him from the Wanderwoods - after  _ Jace _ rescues him - but she admits that she can’t get over the fact that he was so reckless. He admits that he can’t bring himself to regret it. 

She can’t be responsible for that kind of self-sacrifice; it isn’t in her nature. 

She’s bartending again with no friends except Bat; Simon doesn’t visit her because he feels guilty, and Jace doesn’t either because  _ he _ feels guilty too, for falling in love with Simon. As if she wouldn’t notice; as if she wouldn’t  _ understand _ . She tries not to feel too bitter about it, tries to wait patiently for Jace to walk through the doors and sulk all the way to his usual spot, but part of her’s only human and she wants her friends back. The pack isn’t the same. 

Bat tells her to wait, and to wait, and then one day he throws open the doors to her apartment and announces proudly “Someone wants to see you.” She raises an eyebrow and regrets giving him a key. 

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense.” She says, and then - 

Imagine her surprise when Clary Fray walks through the door, confident in a way Maia’s never understood. 

.

She puts the kettle on the stove and tries to make some tea, at a loss as to what to do. Bat disappears as soon as he drops Clary off, claiming he has important things to do. Maia stares at her cupboard and tries to imagine  _ what _ could be going on. 

Clary’s silent, and it feels strange, and off. Maia looks at her, tries to pay attention, and she sees it, beneath Clary’s casual demeanor; her eyes have deep shadows under them and her cheeks are sunken, like she’s being haunted. 

“Are you okay?” Maia asks, finally breaking the silence when she has two mugs of tea and she can slide one across the kitchen countertop to Clary. Clary wraps her pale fingers around it, sighing a little as she inhales the smell of lavender. 

“Yeah.” Clary says, but it sounds wrong, and fake. “I need some help.” 

“In case you hadn’t noticed,” Maia says, “I’m not a Shadowhunter.” 

Clary cracks a smile at that, a real smile, and she looks up, her hair falling away from her face. “Surprisingly, I knew that.” She says, her voice full of laughter. “No, I mean - it’s a research project, of sorts. I want to, um.” She pauses, and clears her throat. “I want to visit someone.” 

“I’m not sure why you need me for that?” 

“It’s - it’s Sebastian.” 

Maia’s cup drops the ground, shattering into pieces by her feet. She feels like she’s a thousand miles away, blood rushing through her ears, scalding hot tea splashing across her bare feet. 

“Maia!” Clary jumps up, rushing around to pick up the larger pieces of the mug and dump them into the trash, grabbing napkins and mopping up the mess. 

Maia finds her voice. “Stop,” she says, falling to her knees, “ _ stop _ .” Clary pauses, on her knees too in Maia’s kitchen, and Maia takes the towel from her, and stares at the girl. 

“This is why I don’t like you.” She says quietly. 

“He’s my  _ brother _ .” Clary’s voice cracks. “I need to know. You’re the only one who...who’ll stop me if things go too far.” 

“This is too far.” Maia says firmly. “This is - “

“I need to know.” Clary repeats dully. There are tears pooling in her eyes. “My family is dead, I’m alone, Maia, and I  _ need to know _ .”

.

Sebastian is being held in a warlock prison, something Maia’s never seen before. She’s still not sure why she agreed to come here, to take part in Clary’s inability to stay away from things that bring nothing but heartache with them, but she’s here now and her eyes are sharp, careful. Sebastian’s the reason for a lot of things, and it makes her skin crawl to think he’s getting another chance to manipulate Clary. 

Deep down, she really does know why she’s here; she sees the loneliness settling in around Clary like an unwelcome blanket, her shoulders hunching with the force of how much she  _ needs _ to belong to someone, somewhere; Maia gets it. It makes something in her crack down the middle, to think that undefeatable Clary is as lonely as she is. 

The cell holding Sebastian is clean and modern looking, one wall rippling to become transparent at a warlock’s command. Magnus isn’t here, though he must know what Clary is up to; he’s the  _ High Warlock _ , and nothing happens here without him knowing. Maia thinks he must know, and just isn’t willing to do anything. There’s no right answer here. 

“Clary.” Sebastian’s voice is surprised, and in between heartbeats he shifts, slides back into the blonde-haired boy he was before, the body he stole. Maia crosses her arms and widens her stance, already uncomfortable. Clary just stares for a while, and Sebastian gazes back, something incomprehensible passing between them. 

“Don’t do that.” Clary finally says, her voice even. “Change back into yourself, Jonathan.” 

Sebastian’s -  _ Jonathan’s _ \- lips quirk up at that, his eyes narrowing. “It’s an unattractive body.” He says. “I much prefer this one. Less unsettling.” 

“I want to talk to my brother, Jonathan Morgenstern.” Clary says firmly, quietly. Only Maia can see her left hand shaking. “Not Sebastian Verlac.” 

“I am both.” Jonathan says. He laughs, his voice bitter. “Oh, you’d never understand, Clarissa. You’ve always been pretty, always been an  _ angel _ . I’m not.”

“Jonathan - “

He hisses, his pupils turning black and his teeth sharpening into fangs, and then he roars “ _ Shut up _ !” Maia’s by Clary’s side in an instant, her eyes flashing green as she firmly tugs Clary away. 

“That’s enough.” She says to Clary. “That’s enough.” 

.

Clary sleeps on Maia’s sofa that night, collapses numbly across it in her jacket and boots and sleeps like the dead. Maia bites her lip, shakes her head, and calls Simon. The dial-tone rings for a while, before Simon picks up. 

“Hello?” his voice is rough with sleep. “Maia?” 

“Hey.” She walks into her bedroom and idly traces over the gilt edge of her mirror. “Clary’s at my place.” 

There’s shuffling on the other end of the line, and Maia’s wolf ears can pick out another voice - a male voice - murmuring “Is that Maia? Is everything okay?” and she grins a little. “I see you’ve got company, Simon.” She cajoles lightly, and then she holds her breath, waiting to see if she’s still allowed to tease like that, when she and Simon and Jace are still stuck in a stalemate. 

“I...yeah.” Simon sighs, and then he says, as casually as he can muster, “Jace kicks in his sleep, it’s awful.” 

There’s grumbling on the other end, and Maia laughs softly, breathlessly, a weight lifting off her chest. A crackling sounds from the other end of the line, and then Jace’s voice echoes through. 

“You’re on speaker,” he says, “and I do  _ not _ kick. Is Clary okay?” 

“That’s what I wanted to ask you.” Maia says, flopping back on her bed. “Has she been quiet recently?” 

“Yeah.” Simon says. “I think she’s lonely. She keeps falling asleep over that box Jocelyn kept of Jonathan.” 

“Well that’s maudlin.” Jace says, his voice subdued. 

“That’s a Shadowhunter for you.” Maia rubs a hand over her eyes. “I don’t know if she told you, but she went to visit Jonathan today in that prison he’s in. I went with her.” 

There’s silence for a long time, and then Simon says “Oh  _ Clary _ ” in a voice that’s full of aching sadness, and Maia gets it suddenly, gets why everyone invariably ends up circling Clary like dying planets swallowed up by a collapsing sun; she thinks of Clary, pale-faced and slack-jawed, curled up on her sofa just a few feet outside the door, and she thinks the same thing,  _ oh Clary _ . 

.

In the morning, Maia makes Clary pancakes and a steaming mug of coffee. Clary stirs in three spoons of sugar and nothing else, her eyes downcast. 

“I’m sorry.” She says finally, playing with one of her bracelets. “I shouldn’t have gone to see Jonathan, and I definitely shouldn’t have dragged you along.” 

Maia snorts, and takes a sip of her own tea. “Yeah.” She says, and she watches critically as Clary cuts into her pancakes, chewing slowly like she’s forgotten what it feels like to eat. “Clary-”

The other girl looks up, her makeup smudged from where she never washed it off last night, and Maia’s heart skips a beat involuntarily. Maia falters, her eyes dragging over the sad tilt of Clary’s mouth, and she sighs. 

“It’s not that simple.” Maia finally says. “It’s okay that you wanted to see your brother.” 

“You don’t need to pretend.” Clary laughs, and it’s only a little hollow. “I know it was stupid.” 

“Why would it be stupid?” Maia asks evenly. 

“He’s a psychotic murderer!” Clary’s fork and knife clatter to her plate as she throws her hands up. “He’s not really my brother!” 

“He is.” Maia says. “He still is.” 

.

She waits three days before she makes the trek down to the Institute, walking through the doors and crossing her arms and scowling until Jace finds her. 

“Hey,” he says, jogging over, “you scared poor Lindsey with all that glaring. What’s up?” 

Maia shakes her head. “Is Clary here?” she asks, and Jace gives her a look. “What?” 

“Nothing.” Jace raises his hands in surrender. “Just, she is, but - why are you coming to see her?” 

“Can’t I come see my favorite Shadowhunters?” she asks, shifting her purse and looking as innocently as possible at Jace. Jace frowns. 

“Not sure if that’s an insult or a compliment.” He says, shaking his head, and then he offers her a smile. “C’mon, I’ll take you to her.”

“How’s Simon?” Maia asks as they turn and walk down the corridor. Jace flushes lightly, and Maia smiles as his heartbeat picks up; she’s happy for them. 

“I’m, uh - we didn’t mean to - “

“Jace.” Maia stops him in the hallways, studying the way the shadows under his eyes aren’t as prominent, how he’s clean-shaven for the first time since he died and came back. His hair is unstyled, falling everywhere, and he looks a little more comfortable in his skin, like he’s finally found who he’s supposed to be, who  _ all _ of him is supposed to be. “It’s okay.” 

He looks back at her, his eyes concerned. Maia doesn’t remember how she thought he was inexpressive, or just a headstrong idiot; Jace is vulnerable in ways that seem so obvious now, in the bright light of the Institute. “Are you sure?” 

“You’re my  _ friends _ .” She says. “I want you guys to be happy. I knew as much as Simon did that it wasn’t working. And if you think I’d hate you for that - “

“I know.” Jace rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m working on this whole - thing. Me. Learning how to have normal relationships, I guess. I just didn’t know how to talk to you again.” 

Maia laughs. “Jace, it’s not like I have it figured out either. It’s a work in progress, okay? Come by the bar again. Who else am I gonna be able to serve all my shitty beer to?” 

“There is that.” Jace cracks a grin, and then he hesitates, before sliding an arm around her shoulders and squeezing briefly. “For what it’s worth, we both haven’t been to any other bar. Couldn’t betray you like that. We’ll be back soon.” 

She squeezes back, and then says “Enough emotions. Where’s Clary?” 

Jace points at the last door on the right side at the end of the corridor. “That one. She’s been...brooding.”

“Right.” Maia shakes her head, a wry smile on her lips. “And coming from you, the king of dramatic brooding, that’s saying something.” 

“I live to serve.” Jace grins and salutes her before he turns and leaves. She turns, sighs, and squares her shoulders before going up to Clary’s door, knocking firmly.

Clary appears after a few seconds, opening the door and looking at Maia in surprise. Her hair is up, and she’s in jeans and a tank top; Maia tries to ignore the low scoop of the neck, the way Clary’s skin is smooth and marked with the bold black lines of runes scrawled across the tops of her breasts. 

“Come in.” Clary finally says, and she steps aside. “Is...everything okay?” 

Maia raises her eyebrows. “You tell me.” She says. “We visited your brother, you had an emotional experience, and then you pretty much disappeared.” 

“I’ve been right here.” Clary frowns.

“Don’t be obtuse. You know what I meant, you disappeared on  _ me _ .” 

“So...you came looking for me?” Clary’s frown deepens, and she sinks down onto her bed, folding one leg under her. “Sorry, I’m just confused.” 

“What about this is confusing?” Maia asks, sitting in the only chair in the room. 

“I thought you didn’t like me.” Clary says in a rush, her fingers tapping across her thighs in an impatient rhythm. “I - was trying to respect that.” 

“Oh.” Maia feels a sliver of disappointment wedge itself in her heart, sharp and painful, and she’s almost surprised by how much she wants Clary to try a little harder with this. “Well, every friendship has to start somewhere.” Maia says. 

Clary doesn’t respond at first. She studies Maia instead, her gaze dragging over Maia’s body, lingering across the scars on her neck before going lower and lower. Maia feels strangely unsettled, something undefinable skittering across her skin at the scrutiny. 

“You said Jonathan  _ is _ my brother.” Clary finally says. “What did you mean?” 

Maia purses her lips. Is this the conversation Clary wants to have? She can’t tell, and the little control she had over this  _ thing _ between them is slipping fast. But  _ God _ , no one can resist that look in Clary’s eyes. 

“You can’t  _ deny _ it.” Maia finally says. “You want him to be your brother. You want to have someone you can point to and say, that’s family.” 

Clary laughs humorlessly, running a hand through her hair. “I have family. I have Simon, I - “

“Someone who’s tied, irreversibly, to your mother and your father.” Maia says, and Clary falls silent. “Someone who only has you, in the way that you’d only have them. Someone who would make you feel less alone.” She pauses, and she’s almost frightened to see the bright tears brimming in Clary’s eyes.

Clary is strong in ways that the Shadowhunters will never understand. She wasn’t born into this world, she was  _ thrown  _ into it, and in that way she’s like Simon and Maia. She got the better end of the bargain, sure, a position in the coveted upper echelons of the police force of their world and status as a God damn  _ angel _ to boot, but she’s human, more human than any of the other Shadowhunters will ever be, and that frightens Clary. It frightens Maia. 

“I wanted a brother.” Clary says slowly, her voice thick. Maia stands, hesitantly, and then walks to Clary, sinking onto the bed next to her and looking at a spot on the wall. 

“Some people,” she says, “you love, even when you know they’ve done terrible, terrible things. Love,” she swallows, and clenches her fist, “is like that.” 

“It shouldn’t be.” Clary murmurs, and she drops her head into her hands, tremors running up her shoulder blades. “I should be able to understand the difference between who deserves to be loved and who doesn’t.” 

“Clary.” Maia says her name like a prayer, and she puts her hand on Clary’s back, feeling the way Clary’s entire body seems to tremble under the weight of her family. “It’s okay that you still want him to be your brother, a real brother. It’s - I would have wanted it too, if I were you.” 

Clary’s reply, when it comes, is muffled. “If you were in this position,” she says, “you wouldn’t have been nearly as good at bringing the entire world to the brink of war as I was.” 

Maia laughs, unable to help herself, and Clary looks up in surprise, the corner of her mouth quirking up. Maia lets her arm curl loosely around Clary’s shoulders, and she smiles. 

“No.” She says. “But I like to think that only you would have managed to stab Valentine in the gut like that.” 

Clary’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and then she glances at her knife, propped up in the corner next to her staff, and then she starts laughing, giggling helplessly, and Maia’s world tips over on its axis. 

_ Oh _ , she thinks, and God,  _ oh _ , it feels like coming home. 

.

Seeing Clary walk into her bar and make a beeline for her, and not Jace and Simon in the corner, is satisfying in unexpected ways; Simon spits his drink out and Jace gives him an unimpressed look. Maia laughs, topping off a customer and going to meet Clary. 

“What’s up?” she grins. “Beer, cosmo, mojito? I really don’t know your taste.” 

“Wine.” Clary says, and Maia rolls her eyes even as the other girl smirks, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m usually a pretentious, artsy, wine-lover. One of those girls. But I’ll take a beer for now.” 

Maia raises an eyebrow. “Will you, now.” She says, her hands moving automatically to slide a beer across the bar. “Well, thanks for coming down to the level of us simple folk.” 

Clary shrugs, taking a weirdly large swing of her beer, like she’s steeling her nerves. “You wanted us to have a friendship.” She says, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder. “So, I’m telling you things about me. I’m a wine girl. I like sweet things more than savory things, and until hunting demons became my job I used to regularly bake cookies and supply them to Simon. I’m always weirdly conscious of my ears. I’m scared of being alone, but you already knew that.” She stares at Maia expectantly, a challenge rising fiercely in her eyes. 

Maia’s frozen in place, her heart beating rapidly enough that any werewolf in the vicinity is going to think she’s having a heart attack. There’s something ridiculous and hopeful and fond curling in her stomach, and she can’t look away, can’t explain why she wants what she wants, and why she suddenly wants it so  _ badly _ . 

“This is the part where you tell me things back.” Clary prompts. “Or I can start guessing things about you. You have a secret love of novelty hats. You collect rocks. Oh, maybe you secretly listen to classical music - “

Maia finds her voice. “I like classical music, and that’s not a secret. But you won’t catch me dead in a stupid novelty hat.” she says, and the smile that Clary gives her is brighter than the city at night. 

.

“I really, unironically like the Jade Wolf’s food.” Clary says, showing up to Maia’s apartment with bags of takeout. “And I never thanked you for letting me crash at your place.” 

“You didn’t need to.” Maia lets her in, shaking her head and grinning. “And you  _ really  _ didn’t need to bring your obsession with the Jade Wolf to me, not when I’ve eaten it for the last two nights.” 

“Are you saying you  _ don’t _ want these delicious noodles and spicy steak, extra hot for you - “

“Hell no.” Maia makes grabby hands at the food. “Give me my food and sit down, we can watch something.” 

“Crime procedurals.” Clary says, settling into Maia’s couch. “I’m super into crime procedurals.” 

“And I’m into sit-coms.” Maia snorts, sitting next to Clary with her own food. “Here, we’ll compromise.” 

Clary’s silent for a while, spooning noodles into her mouth, until she finally, exasperatedly says “Brooklyn 99 isn’t a  _ compromise _ , it’s just your favorite show, Maia”, and Maia can’t help laughing at the disgruntled look in Clary’s eyes; Clary’s gaze softens and she digs her sock-clad feet into Maia’s thigh.

.

Clary calls her one night when Maia’s nearly asleep, and Maia picks up with a retort about the world ending ready on the tip of her tongue when Clary says, all in one breath, “I like girls.” 

Maia swallows, a lump rising in her throat.

“I like guys, and I like girls, too.” She says, her voice low and sleep roughened. Clary’s breath hitches over the phone. 

She wants to hold Clary’s hand. She wants to know what that would feel like, for just one second. 

.

Sebastian -  _ Jonathan -  _ is executed on a dreary Tuesday morning. Maia doesn’t know what the actual procedure that the Silent Brothers are planning to do is; she’s not even allowed  _ in _ . Neither is Clary, for that matter, but Magnus does quietly slip Clary a note telling her when to visit Jonathan in his final hours at his warlock prison. 

Maia goes with Clary, without Clary asking her to. Magnus texts Maia, a simple  _ be good to each other,  _ and Maia has no idea how Magnus knows half the things he does.  How can he know what it means to Maia to have Clary besides her, so fiercely impatient and vulnerable in everything she does, when Maia herself doesn’t know? 

This time, when Clary stands in front of the glass and sees Jonathan - strangely handsome, blue-eyed, blond-haired body snatching Jonathan - she just raises a hand in farewell. 

“To another lifetime,” she says quietly, “where we could have been siblings.” 

Jonathan’s face goes through a rapid series of emotions - pain, anger, heartbreak, and an aching emptiness. 

“To  _ this _ lifetime,” he says back, just as quietly, “for willing to call me brother.” He shifts, and the form he’s in ripples; he slowly morphs into the burnt out, abused husk that is body really is. 

“I will die as your brother,” he says, his voice low and gravelly, “not as Sebastian Verlac.” 

Clary nods, and they stare at each other for a long moment, before Clary exhales and steps away from the glass, looking at Maia. 

“Let’s go.” She says, and then she turns and walks away without ever looking back. Maia looks, once, at Jonathan, who’s staring at Clary, his eyes immeasurably sad. Maia thinks about demon blood, and what it can do, and feels a surge of raw hatred at Valentine, for cursing his own son to become his worst nightmares, and his daughter to become the unwilling recipient of all his dreams, and for leaving them both to be alone in this world. 

.

“Thank you.” Clary says, a week later, her eyes red-rimmed as she holds out a box of cookies to Maia. Maia stares at the cookies, and then tugs on her arm and envelops the other girl in a hug, her fingers rubbing a soothing circle against the nape of Clary’s neck. Clary lets out a hiccuping sob and curls her hands in Maia’s shirt, her nails digging in sharply. 

The cookies, when they eat them later, are salty and sweet, heavy with chocolate, and obscenely arousing when Clary sits at Maia’s table and bites into one, letting out a breathy moan. Maia’s torn between smiling and crying.

.

Maia finishes her degree, and the first person she calls is Clary, almost unthinkingly, her grin stretching dopily across her face as the dial-tone rings. 

“Hi!” Clary says, unavoidably chirpy at nine in the morning. “What’s up, Maia?” 

“I officially have my degree.” Maia says giddily, “I - I’m a biologist. Holy shit, I - I’m - “

“Oh my God,” Clary enthuses, “congratulations, that’s amazing - Maia, I’m so happy for you.” 

“I did it.” Maia stares at the final grades for her last classes, elation bubbling in her chest. “Through everything, through - through a war and nightmares and the pack - I - “

“You did it.” Clary confirms. Her voice is a little quieter, warm and intimate. “Of course you did. You’re stronger than anyone I know.” 

Maia laughs, disbelievingly, and her heart skips a beat. She’s living every cliche in the book with this girl, and it feels unbelievably good. She didn’t know anyone could make her feel like this again, and she wants to go back in time four years and tell herself that she’s going to find it in her to be everything she ever wanted to be, that she’s never going to lose herself. 

Later that night, with Clary’s  _ you’re stronger than anyone I know _ still taking up space in her heart, she calls her parents. 

.

In the second week of February, Clary marches into the bar looking like she’s gearing up for a fight. Jace and Simon get up from their position at the bar counter heckling Maia, smirk at her as they pay their tab, and leave the bar holding hands, both of them winking at her as they leave. Jace’s wink is way more effective than Simon’s, but both of them are still stupid and ridiculously endearing. Maia shakes her head, even as Clary approaches. 

“Hey.” She smiles, the sight of Clary still enough to make the world shift under her feet a little. “It’s a little early for wine, but for my favorite customer I could probably swing it - “

“If I ask you on a date,” Clary says, her face open and hopeful, “will you say yes to me? Will you let me prove that I can be good for you?”

Maia drops the bottle she’s holding, and dimly thinks that that’s going to come out of her paycheck. Her hands are shaking, the world narrowing around her to just Clary, beautiful,  _ gorgeous _ Clary with her heart on her sleeve and her emotions wild and uncontrollable; Clary, who’s never been afraid to love people, but who’s always afraid she’s going to lose them no matter how hard she loves, who still believes, despite everything that she’s lost, that if she loves hard enough this time, she’ll win. Clary, asking outright the one thing Maia couldn’t even bring herself to say, let alone feel fully. 

“You don’t need to prove it.” Maia says quietly, desperately aware that every supernatural being in the bar is listening in avidly to this conversation. “But you need to know I’m not your savior, just because I helped you with your brother.”    
Clary flashes her a jubilant smile. “And I don’t need to be saved.” She steps closer, and the bar is between them but Maia feels like Clary’s everywhere, stripping her to her soul. “And you can’t save me anyway. But God, Maia - you have to know how I feel. How much you - “

“I know.” Maia says quickly, because she can’t put words to it. Not yet. “I - yes.” 

Clary looks at her, puzzled. 

“Yes.” Maia clarifies. “I’d say yes if you asked me on a date.” 

.

Later that night, over a stupidly expensive bottle of wine Clary bought for Maia, Maia tells her the halting story of Jordan, and drinks a  _ lot _ of wine to swallow down the words. Clary’s eyes flash as she hears it, and she cups Maia’s cheek. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” She promises. “I’m going to be here, however you want to do this.” 

“I want you.” Maia admits, and her hands shake. Clary - though she  _ must _ have known it already - looks floored, her eyes widening and her breath stuttering in her chest. 

Maia can’t take it anymore; she surges up, tangling her hands in Clary’s hair and yanking her in for a bruising kiss, their lips finding each other automatically. Clary lets out a breathy moan the instant Maia presses in harder, licking into Clary’s mouth and trying not to fall apart at the way Clary kisses with her whole body, her hands like vices on Maia’s biceps. They push against each other, desperate and graceless until Clary back up into the table and shifts to sit on it, hooking Maia in with her leg and pulling her close. 

Maia pulls back, breathing hard, pressing kisses across the soft curve of Clary’s jaw and dipping lower to trace over the delicate rune arching across her collarbone. Clary sighs shakily when Maia’s hand traces, feather light, over the swell of her chest, dipping her finger lower and lower until she’s tracing the line of Clary’s bra. 

“ _ Maia _ .” Clary gasps out, and she splays her hand across Maia’s stomach, rucking her shirt up and diving back in to kiss her as she works on mapping Maia’s body with just her hands, and Maia is flying, her bruised, battered heart leaping in her chest. 

“Say it again.” Maia demands, yanking Clary’s shirt off. “Say my name like that.” 

“Maia,” Clary says reverently, “ _ Maia _ .” 

.

In February, as Clary kisses her, Maia’s bones lose some of the hollow ache she’s been carrying with her for as long as she can remember; outside, it’s bitterly cold, but she’s warm again, Clary’s bright smile a constant presence through the dark. 

_ This is why people follow you _ , Maia thinks as Clary tugs Maia into her arms and they doze off to sleep. Clary is going to be difficult, and unreasonable, and headstrong at all the wrong times, but - Maia knows, without a doubt, that Clary would follow her too. To the ends of the earth, if it came to that. 

“Go to sleep.” Clary says, nuzzling Maia’s neck and interrupting her thoughts. “I’m going to still be here in the morning, you know.” 

“I know.” Maia says, and she finally drops off to sleep. 

 


End file.
